I'm Not a Robot

Before we get started, I'd like to write a letter to Google.
     Dear Google,
        It has come to my attention that every time I comment, I must enter in a code that proves I am not a robot. Well, if you read through my thoughtfully constructed and deep comment, you would see that no robot would be capable of such fine craftsmanship! But alas, you cannot comprehend the deeper meaning of my words because, yes, you, are a robot, Google. Because you, Google, will not be able to decipher the meaning of this message unless I literally state it: I am not a robot. Please stop asking me to prove myself.

Now that we got that out of the way, I guess it's true, as most of you have probably guessed by now, I am not a robot. In fact, without actually looking it up, I'd say 99.6% of people aren't robots. But just because they aren't atomically robotic, doesn't mean they don't share some of the traits.
From the three pieces from F. Scott Fitzgerald that I've read, I've noticed a common theme is how people with wealth are often extremely  disillusioned from reality. Robots are also often disillusioned from reality. Coincidence? I think not. Daisy and Tom couldn't see how many lives they were destroying as something of consequence. Gatsby didn't understand just how volatile his relationship with Daisy was. Kismine pretty much single handedly condemned John and her sister to a life of poverty because she couldn't understand the direness of the situation. Judy Jones treated men as if they were objects and not people. They couldn't understand how the world worked apart from their 0.4% (the robots). Wealth enabled them to be surrounded my material things which enabled them to enjoy those things and when they got bored, they moved on to the next one or sacrificed their friends, etc. In their world, everything is made to bring them pleasure, even if that's not how the real world works. In a robot's world, they don't even understand how the real world works...so...basically the same thing (I'm allowed to make a stretch or two).
I'm going to finish with an anecdote.
Last (Friday) night, (no Katy Perry reference intended) I went to my friend's house. This particular friend's family is well off. They have a nice house and nice cars and nice things in general. Don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with that, and I'm not faulting them for being in a position to buy nice things, but I did get to see firsthand what that does to the children. We went Christmas shopping. At one of the stores, a single (fake) leather belt with studs was 35$. My friend said, "Oh wow, that's so inexpensive!" She was genuine about it too. Later that evening, her younger sister got a few things from Pink. She got a sweatshirt for about 45$. I know, because I checked the price. They, however, did not. They spent the rest of the evening splurging, prices didn't seem to matter. They talked about benefits and business meeting and country clubs and cars and countries. This is their reality. They flipped through the T.V. channels, barely even seeing one; they moved from one pasttime to another; they changed and bought many clothes that were virtually the same; they went shopping just to get something new and when they were bored they watched a movie, then texted, then Instagram, then Vine, then something or another thing or anything to bring them instant gratification. And when they had exhausted themselves, they slept, probably experiencing fitful dreams of unhappiness because they couldn't just switch around. Or maybe not. I'm just saying, these girls are young, and they're already more restless than most people I know. Everything they've grown up with has been provided to make them happy, but everyone always has something better, so they never are happy.
If possible to stick to Fitzgerald's viewpoint anymore too, they were all really bad drivers.